


A Fairytale and a Half

by thornsword (eeeeeeee)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, PBB2016, Phan - Freeform, Phandom Big Bang, and monsters, but I delivered on anyway, the fairytail au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/thornsword
Summary: Prince Philip has a fairytale life, right down to the big quest to save the True Love he’s never met from a witch in a big scary forest. He’s never been outside the castle before, let alone a forest, so when it becomes apparent that Dan - a farm boy living in the middle of nowhere - knows the forest inside out, he tries to persuade him to be a guide so Phil won’t die before doing whatever it was he was meant to do in there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This too so long my lord I wish I wasn’t so much of a procrastinator.  
> I hope you enjoy :)

Once upon a time there was a kingdom.

There’s always a kingdom. There were others, too, but they’re not important yet.

This kingdom had kind, humble rulers - the people were happy, taxes were low and there hadn’t been a war for as long as anyone could remember.

This is a fairytale, so of course most rulers are kind and humble and perfect- but their kids _aren’t_.

The young princes and princesses had been born with a silver spoon in their mouths and servants to hang on their every word.

Want a pony? Sure here’s twelve.

An old lady, sitting in her ramshackle house on the edge of town, sighed. She knew that without any trials, without the witches and monsters and quests, the fairytale wouldn’t survive. It would fall apart under the rule of those who don’t know what they have.

She was _tired_ though - had the spinning wheel thing _really_ been fifty years ago? - but what you gotta do, you gotta do.

The old witch hadn’t called forth any sort of magic in years. Not since her skin was smooth and pale, since her horns stood tall and proud. Once she uttered the first syllables of a spell, she knew that’s what her appearance would become again. Pale green skin, eyes like death, strong bones and long limbs. Such was the curse.

She got off her chair, spitting angrily about _royal prats_ and _evil magic._ Breathing in deeply, she relished the feeling of her vertebrae clicking back into alignment and her magic - dark, horrible stuff with a tar-like thickness that she hadn’t realised she missed - flowing into her with renewed vigour, along with all the hate and anger that made her remember why she wanted to kill the royal family in the first place.

She forgot how painful teleporting was. It only lasted a split-second - if that - but she felt it _all,_ hardly breathing and just _feeling._

The heavy blackness lifted off her shoulders and cleared away from her eyes. She breathed. She gasped. She looked around, and nostalgia struck her like lightning.

The big, scary witch had crashed a party.

Again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The roof of the grand hall stretched above her, royal blue rafters dripping from the pointed top and celebratory banners hanging from every crevice. Her footsteps echoed in the hushed silence of the hall - lords and ladies in clashing bundles of colour pushed against each other, holding hands and skirts and leaning up against the lavish tapestries hanging on the wall. Painted faces fell as they stared - and _stared_ and _stared_ \- at her, mouths hanging open in soundless gasps of horror as if they’d never heard of a witch at a gift-giving.

 _Really,_ she sighed to herself, _it’s not like it hasn’t happened before._

“Hello, yes, what a surprise - a witch at a party she wasn’t invited too,” she snapped at the flabbergasted assembly, “where is it?”

King Joseph - a tall, proud man, bent over in fear, muscles visibly tensed beneath his white robes - gulped. “What do you want, _witch?_ This is the celebration for the birth of Princess Arabella - we have no need of _the likes of you-”_

“She’ll do,” she spat, cutting him off.

The young witch pivoted on her toes until she found the cradle, curtained with pink silk and bejeweled with tiny sapphires and emeralds. She moved towards the baby, easily pushing away various plucky guards that tried to stop her. The king stood by the child protectively, and she flicked him away with a jerk of her fingertips.

“I need to curse her...” she muttered.

“No!” King Joseph yelled desperately, clutching at her ankle. She waved her hand disinterestedly and he fell unconscious. Or maybe she killed him. She didn’t care.  

“Joseph!” Queen Elizabeth cried, finally startling herself out of her stupor.

The witch snapped her fingers, and the baby - crib and all - disappeared. “I have what I came for,” she announced grandly, before raising her arms, black smoke billowing out from under her long dress.

“No!” the Queen screamed, stumbling out of her throne, “Wait! Please! Tell me where she is! I’m begging you _tell me where my baby is!”_

“Your precious child has been transported to a castle in the middle of nowhere. Probably a forest, probably hard to find,” she answered quickly - the colours were beginning to blind her, “she’s also guarded by something powerful. They always are.”

With that, the foul smoke hid her from view and it was Queen Elizabeth’s naive hope that she would still be there when it cleared.

She wasn’t.

The Queen sunk to her knees, arms folded over her unconscious husband, shoulders shaking with her weeping as the lords and ladies took off their feathered hats and elaborate headpieces and looked down solemnly, letting their queen grieve.

Only 4-year-old Prince Philip kept his gaze up. He didn’t quite know what was going on, but he couldn’t stop staring at the scene with a mixture of awed fascination and deep-rooted sadness. Queen Elizabeth’s wonderful pale blue dress seemingly faded as she trembled over her white-robed  King. His breathing a slow contradiction to her own ragged gasps. Soft, clouded, light filtered through the dull stained-glass window, backlighting the empty cradle and the colours bleeding into shades of grey and blue.

There was something there, something about watching her that made tears well up in his eyes and a sudden burst of grief bloom in his chest.

He didn’t quite understand what was going on, but he knew nothing would ever be the same again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Seventeen years passed by. Phil watched the kingdom grieve and grieve, losing it’s cheer and order and slowly slipping into ruin as his own kingdom flourished; population rose, trade was good and Phil lived in a sort of guilty comfort.

Queen Elizabeth and King Joseph had spared no expense in trying to find their daughter - they halved their army, hired sell-swords and bounty hunters alike but to no avail. The efforts trickled down over the years, the princess becoming an impossible task that featured in drunk tavern tales. Everyone had looked for her, but no one had succeeded.

Then, one day, _the_ day, seventeen summers later, the King and Queen found a note:

_I’m sick of all this. You’re taking too long. If you don’t find her a year from now I’ll just kill her and be done with it._

The reward rose and the search began again with renewed vigour. People went to seers and oracles and dealers of magical weapons and everyone had a theory, an idea of where she was. _Definitely,_ they’d tell themselves, _this is where she is. This is it._

It never was.

In the next kingdom across, King James and Queen Catherine heard about the newfound panic for Princess Arabella and sent their son, Prince Philip to see the Royal Oracle.

“Ah yes, Prince Philip,” the blind old man smiled, his dark skin almost melting into the purple curtains. There were no windows in the room, but spots of light filtered in through the drapery nonetheless, “I know why you have come.”

The prince laughed. “That’s what you always say - I bet mum told you, didn’t she?”

The Oracle’s smiled widened and he gave a hoarse chuckle, leathery skin folding at the corners of his eyes. “Do not rob an old man of his fun,” he said, “and I _am_ an oracle after all.”

“Are all oracles blind?” Philip asked, as he always did.

“Not all. I, for example, lost my eyesight while fighting a ferocious bear.”

The answer was different every time, and Philip couldn’t comprehend how he thought up so many fantastical excuses.

“If you really _do_ know why I’m here… can you tell me anything that could help?” he asked, sobering up. He can remember that day like it was yesterday - the tangible sadness that hung in the air like smoke, so thick you could choke as the broken sobs of the Queen echoed throughout the cold hall.

The Oracle went very still - eyes closed, barely breathing. Time seemed to stop and Phil sat, staring straight ahead in fully conscious suspended animation. Nausea swelled up in his stomach like a whirlpool in reverse and oh god he was going to be _sick-_

The old man’s eyes opened and Phil drew in a suddering gasp, falling backwards as the Oracle untangled his legs. He stood up, swayed in place for a bit and then started shuffling towards the door, hands groping out in front of him and pushing away various trinkets on the floor.

“A Quest!” he yelled. Phil couldn’t tell if he was desperate or excited. “Prince Philip! Heir to the throne must undertake a Quest!”

He bumped into the door.

“The Princess Arabella! In the caves- in the _forest!”_ he raved, palming the wood for the doorknob, fingernails scratching away at the paint.

“I _what?”_ Phil exclaimed - he’d spent almost his entire life within the walls of the castle, with the escort of at least ten guards but a _quest??_ Only the brave and the chivalrous and the skilled ever undertook _Quests._

There must be a misunderstanding.

And yet, before the situation had really sunk in, what the Oracle saw had been posted all across the kingdom, and celebrations broke out - Prince _Philip!_ On a Quest to save a _princess!_ Old tales of True Love’s Kiss and deep sleeps and evil magic molded themselves into rumours, scattering themselves around fireplaces and markets.

Queen Catherine and King James were overjoyed. After seemingly hundreds of potential suitors - lovely ladies from rich families and nobility - their son was finally going to have a wife! And _Princess Arabella -_ they would be able to join their neighbouring kingdoms together like they always dreamed of.

Phil didn’t understand all the commotion - _yes_ , he had heard the fairy tales and it _did_ seem oddly… set up, this situation he found himself in, but he had never _met_ the princess! He barely remembered what her cradle looked like, and he was supposed to kiss her upon meeting her and that would mean he was going to get married?

He groaned and put his head in his hands, peeking out from behind his fingers at the grand banquet his mother had spontaneously erected. Phil never wanted to get married and now he was _to some girl he’d never met._

This was a nightmare. His own personal _nightmare._

And there was nothing he could do to stop it. For the first time he wished he was back with the oracle, time gazing him straight in the eye as it _stopped_ and _waited,_ rather than running straight past him as it was now.

The festivities ended. Time was passing and it was _horrible_. There was a bottomless hole in Phil’s stomach and he felt like he would rather let it eat him up than face the next day - where he would supposedly journey outside the castle walls, defeat an evil witch, save a princess by kissing her, come back and get married to said princess.

It was all a bit much.

He didn’t think he would be able to sleep that night - there were so many thoughts whirling around in his mind and pain was beginning to unfurl in his forehead - but as soon as he burrowed into his silk sheets and closed his eyes - _please be a dream, please be a dream,_ he willed - those thoughts slipped away and he fell asleep-

Phil snapped awake. It was light out but he swore he only _blinked_ and now Bella, his maid, was drawing back the red curtains. Sunlight streamed into his room and he shied away from it, pressing his face into the pillow.

“Don’t be like that Prince Phillip!” Bella laughed good-naturedly, “big day today!”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned.

It was surprisingly simple. Efficient. Like his parents- like the _castle_ had been prepared for this for a long, long time. His mother, with wet eyes and smiling lips, gave him a kiss on the cheek and patted his shoulder. His father, stern, but kind, hugged him briefly and nodded.

And that was it.

There was the usual fanfare and parade and he was given items he had never even seen before and then they sent him off into the town.

A kiss. A pat. A hug. A nod.

That was it.

He felt… kind of dissapointed? Quests were notoriously deadly and yet his parents didn’t even say anything to him.

Prince Phillip shrugged, feeling as if maybe that was the only thing he could do, squared his shoulders and started walking.

It became apparent pretty quickly that he stood out - royal blue blouse, spotless white pants and shoes that clicked on the cobblestone path. The townspeople were all wearing shades of brown, with dirt on their feet and hands and they were all staring at him.

Phil didn’t know what to think. He was shocked. All his life his parents had told him what a happy kingdom they had, how much the people _loved_ the nobles and how _benevolent_ they all were but _this_ -

He looked around, as if to make sure there wasn’t a secret market or dance behind him.

- _this_ was… sad. It was like someone mixed all the watercolours of the world together - everything had the same brownish tinge to it. He could hear children laughing, somewhere, probably, as the constant discontented murmuring played in the background.

Phil gulped. He clutched the hilt of his sword to stop the scabbard knocking against his legs, feeling guilty and betrayed and scared all at the same time.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to find the princess.

 ~~ _But I don’t want to find the princess_.~~ You need to find the princess. It’s your duty. You want to find the princess.

Phil started to walk a little faster. Then a little more. He was almost running - his shoes clicking on the uneven stones, blouse flying out behind him and he had _no_ idea where he was going but it made sense that if he kept running he would get to the end-

"What's your rush?"

A hand grasped his elbow tight, and jerked him backwards. Turning, he saw three of the townspeople (same brownish tinge, same lines on their faces) smiling at him.

Their smiling unsettled him. Everything was unsettling him lately.

“Yeah we just wanna say hi to our new friend over here,” one of them said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Phil winced.

“Friend?”

“Yeah. We’re the official welcoming crew to our humble abode,” the one with the dirty dreadlocks said, opening his arms and gesturing to the town.

“And,” the third one piped up, stepping closer. He was missing most of his teeth, “as the official welcoming crew, we feel it is our duty to inform you that you can’t just leave without shouting us a drink.”

“Town policy.”

“And it’s just plain rude.”

Phil took a step back. “I’m afraid I can’t…”

“Can’t _what?”_ asked the one with his arm around Phil’s shoulders, moving closer to him, “is Lord Uppity too proud to drink with a couple of lowly peasants?”

“Sorry but I have to-”

“If you ain’t gonna be nice about the situation, we ain’t either,” warned the toothless one.

Almost in sync, they drew daggers out of the folds of their shirts. “You started this. It’s all your fault. If you had just been _nice_ about it….” the man with the dreadlocks sighed.

Nervously, Phil drew his sword. It felt heavy in his hands, and it looked larger than the sword he was used to.

Before he realised it, there was a sharp _clang_ and the vibrations made the sword slip out of his hands.

He looked up, dread sinking into his stomach. This was it. Quest over. He was gonna die and the last thing he said to his mother was _“um, yes, the porridge is… nice.”_

A fist flew towards his face and he had no time to do anything but close his eyes. Pain bloomed on his cheek and he fell backwards, the cobbles grazing his hands.

The man with no teeth got behind him and held the knife to his throat as they stripped him of everything but his undergarments as harshly as he could.

Tears welled up in his eyes and fell down his face. He felt violated, being held down on the filthy, hard stones as they took his clothes, his bag, his sword and even his shoes. They took everything, and then, they started kicking him, yelling about _self-entitled nobles_ and _pretentious fucks._

The moment they hesitated, or decided he’d had enough, or lost interest, or- whatever, Phil rose unsteadily to his feet and ran. Humiliation burned his cheeks as he felt the cool air on his thighs and arms - the cotton shorts and singlet not covering much _at all._

 _I’m okay,_ he told himself, _I’m okay._

He passed the edge of the town, breath ragged and body on autopilot.

_I’m okay I’m out I can move I’m okay._

The brownness gave way to grass and trees and nothing for miles but the path he was running on. The pebbles hurt his feet but he kept moving. He needed to get away from the town.

He is away, Phil tells himself.

He stops, breathing hard. He looks around and his breathing gets quicker.

The grass is green, the sky is blue and now, everything is black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Dan sighed and slowed his mule to a halt as he stared at the maybe-person/probably-corpse lying in front of him. They were either an outsider or an idiot, because the only places the road lead to were Dan's house and the forest, and neither had had any visitors in years.

In fact Dan had come to doubt whether anyone knew about them at all.

He leaned forward and into her mane, pressing his forehead into the wiry hair. Why him. All he wanted was one (1) incident-free trip to the markets and just when he thought he would make it, _this thing_ shows up.

And _this thing_ caused a massive problem for Dan. The way he saw it. He had three options: 1) touch it and it's dead 2) touch it and it's _not dead_ and 3) touch it and it's not dead and _leave it there._

The third option was the worst because his mum always wanted to know every detail of his trips and he can't very well just leave out the small detail of a not-dead person lying in the middle of the path without her finding out and making him go and get the not-dead person.

Dan loved his mum, he really did. She was brave and strong and kind but they did _not_ need another mouth to feed. Ever since that princess was taken taxes took up more than half of what they made from the farm (which wasn't much to begin with) and it was hard.

 _No matter what the outcome_ , Dan thought, _I still have to go touch it._

He swung a leg around and dismounted, feeling the impact right through his legs. Dan stepped forward, cautiously, as a thought of _what if it's a trap_ surfaced. It wouldn't surprise him. Another step forward. One more.

He stretched out, placed a hand on the person's side and rolled them over so their face was skyward.  

The man's features were unusually pretty. A lot of the people around where Dan lived had fallen victim to diseases or hunger or age and it showed on their face - he'd had smallpox when he was little and there was a tiny smattering of scars about his neck as evidence.

But this man. His skin was as pale as milk (rare, when everyone worked out in the sun all day) - a startling contradiction to dark eyelashes and hair. He was wearing nothing but white shorts and a singlet and it gave the man a black-and-white quality.

He was foreign. Strange. A creature Dan had never seen before and yet here he was - breathing, alive _(dammit),_ and he didn’t quite know what to make of him.

Dan let out another sigh and awkwardly looped an arm around the nan's middle, heaving him up and putting him on the horse as gently as you could heave someone up and put them on a horse. There shouldn't be too long to go until he was home, which was good because he didn't know how long Dan could deal with the man's bones digging into him as he rode.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Mum!” he called into the house, “I found someone passed out and robbed of all their worth again!”

_“What?!”_

He heard her frantic footfalls as she ran down the stairs - carefully missing the second-to-last step because it would break under her feet - and came to meet him at the front door.

“Are they okay?” she asked, looking past him, her braid flying over her shoulder when she stopped.

Dan huffed out a laugh and put a hand on her shoulder. He still wasn’t quite used to looking down to her. “He’s alright… probably. Also hi mum, nice to see you, yes, I had a lovely trip _thank you_ for asking.”

“Hello, Bear,” she smiled, taking his hand off her shoulder and up to her lips briefly before moving past him and towards his mule, where the stranger was slumped over rather unceremoniously.

“Come help me with him,” she grunted, flinging one of the unconscious man’s arms around her shoulders.

Between the two of them, they were able to carry him inside and onto the table. Dan hoped it would hold the stranger’s weight because his father had made it. Meaning it was quite old, and that Dan felt some sort of stupid sentimentality towards the gnarled wood and shoddy craftsmanship.

“Stay with him while I fetch some water.”

If fact, his father had made most of the furniture in the house. It was-

The stranger took in a deep, shuddering breath and bolted upright. Dan moved towards him and caught his flailing hands before he got smacked.

“What’s going- where am I- what are- how..” the stranger’s eyes were wide, panicked and sky blue. Dan kept eye contact as the stranger tried to ask every question he could at once.

“My name is Dan,” he said clearly after the half-questions had reduced to confused splutters.

"...Phil."

“Okay, Phil, just lie back down,” he instructed softly, “you fainted - what’s the last thing you remember?”

Phil blinked, forehead creasing in confusion. “I was… I was robbed. Told me to… just keep moving. There was a road… an endless path…”

“Is he awake?” his mum asked, popping her head through the doorway.

Dan nodded.

“Keep him that way!” she told him from the next room, “we don’t know if he bumped his head or if he’s got any bad injuries!”

“Okay!”

“I’m going to the well - keep him awake!”

Dan sighed. “Yes, mum!”

The door closed and he turned back to Phil, who had started to doze. Dan tapped him on the shoulder till he roused again. “You have to stay awake.”

“Is your sister a physician?” Phil slurred.

Dan let a bout of laughter past his lips. “That’s my mother! I know we’ve got the same nose, and the same eyes and the same…. face- well, okay, and hair colour, but I like to think I don’t look a day over nineteen thank you very much.”

“Sorry.”

Dan shrugged. “It’s alright. She doesn’t really act her age sometimes - for example, she’s making me take care of a total stranger who could possibly rob us as we sleep.”

“I won’t - promise.”

“Yeah, you look like you’ve never done a wrong thing in your life,” Dan agreed, sitting down on one of the chairs around the table.

“Not true… I cut my father’s beard off once,” Phil shifted so he was looking at him, “and I’ve broken at least… three hundred… things in the last year.”

“Is that why you look like you’ve never seen the sun in your life? Because you’re too clumsy to move from your room?”

Phil gave a spluttering laugh. “Yeah. I haven’t moved from my bed since I was five years old.”

“What did you eat?”

“...I caught mice,” Phil said after a moment, “and used them to lure cats, who then lured dogs, who lured cows and I ate the cows.”

Dan cracked a smile. “I think you really did bump your head.”

Phil shrugged.

The back door opened, and Dan got up to help his mum with the water. She thanked him, wiped her hands and grabbed the cleanest rag from the kitchen.

“If he’s sleeping you’re getting the water for the next _month,”_ she warned.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 “So, Phil,” Emily started, dipping the cloth into the pail of water and touching it to his forehead, “what are you doing all the way out here anyway?”

“Yeah, there’s literally nothing here for, like, _miles,”_ Dan said.

The experience back in the town had made Phil a little more… _cautious_ of what he told people. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that his kingdom wasn’t as merry as he was told - even Dan and Emily’s house was smaller than the stables, and it looked about the same. Exposed wooden rafters and nails and thin boards for walls that had clearly been repaired several times.

Now he could tell that things were desperate for some people - although he couldn’t really _understand_ any of it - and despite being stripped of all but his clothes, Phil wanted to trust these people.

“I’m… I was sent out on a Quest-” a sharp intake of breath, “-to find Princess Arabella before the evil witch kills her.”

A stunned silence followed his words. Dan and Emily exchanged a glance.

Emily gulped. “But that must mean... you’re the prince, aren’t you? Prince Philip?”

Phil nodded.

The pair in front of him flew into a panic - lowering their heads and  Emily was apologising for putting him on the table even though it was so _dirty_ and they’re _so sorry_ for not providing better accommodation and isthereanythingyoudesiresir?

“No! No it’s fine!” he exclaimed, “I mean… I’m hardly a prince right now am I? All I have are the clothes on my back, and I would have been a lot worse off if you hadn’t taken me in so thank you.” Phil drew his legs in so he was sitting cross-legged on the table, and bowed his head.

After a beat, Dan straightened up. “Did I ever mention how hard it was to get you on Susan? Honestly-”

“Susan?”

“The mule,” he clarified, then continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, a tight smile on his lips, “I know I should have bigger muscles from working on a farm my entire life, but couldn’t you have taken my flimsy arms into consideration before you fainted?”

 _“Dan!”_ Emily scolded, gaze flitting to her son before going back to the ground.

Phil laughed. “I’ll make sure to faint in a cart or something next time.”

Dan bowed, but Phil wasn’t sure if it was entirely in jest. “Much obliged, your Royal Highness.”

Emily raised her head, almost uncertainly.

“Um, well, I’m sorry to tell you this but,” she cleared her throat, “after fainting from- fatigue? I assume? I wouldn’t recommend continuing a Quest without a few days rest… your Royal Highness.”

“I don’t think-”

“No I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn like that! Don’t mind us Prince-” Emily bowed low and nudged Dan to do the same. He did, reluctantly, ”- Prince Philip. I wish you well on your journey.”

Phil was flabbergasted at the attitude reversal. He slowly slid off the table, wobbled a bit on unsteady feet and sat down, so that his head was below theirs.

“It’s fine, really,” he said, “besides - I don’t look very prince-like now.”

Dan’s smile softened slightly, became more real and Emily sighed, before looking up again. She was still a bit skittish, but some of that casualness from before came back and most of the tension in the room dissipated.

“Sorry Prince Philip, we’re a bit nervous about nobility after…  yeah,” she trailed off.  

“Just call me Phil - it’s easier.”

She smiled. “Phil then.”

“But mum’s right you know,” Dan intoned, “you really should rest.”

“You’d let me stay here?” Phil asked, almost like he wasn’t expecting he could.

Dan nodded, and motioned for Phil to follow him upstairs, throwing a “watch the second step” over his shoulder. There were only two doors upstairs, one on the left and one on the right of a dusty corridor with a dead end. Dan opened the one on the right-hand side.

“You can sleep here,” he said, and Phil walked into the room. Inside was a small bed and a nightstand made from an old crate, “sorry about the… uh, the nothingness.”

Phil shook his head, and immediately regretted it.

“Ow, thank you.”

With that, Dan left and Phil lied down on the hard mattress. There were a lot of things he could have thought about - his Quest, the princess, Dan and Emily, how he was going to get to the specific cave(s) in the specific forest and _why him. Oh God, why him-_

But he didn’t. Phil _adamantly_ did not think about them. Instead, he rolled onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t fall asleep for several hours.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Phil, who had never done a day’s hard labour in his life, was finding it hard to cope on the farm. He knew that what he was doing was a mere _fraction_ of the work both Dan and Emily were doing - “You’re meant to be _resting,_ so we’ll have to ease you into it, but we appreciate the extra help your grace!” Emily had told him - but he felt guilty staying under their roof without doing _something._

He wiped the sweat off his brow as Emily called both him and Dan in for a break. Dan smiled at him, and they both headed back to the house, caked from the waist down in dirt.

“If you’re well enough to dig around I think you’re well enough to go traversing through the Cursed Forest,” Emily told him, slicing up a loaf of bread.

“The Cursed Forest?” Phil parroted.

She stopped and turned to face him. “Isn’t that where you’re headed? I’m sorry - you said you were going to a forest and I just assumed it would be that one seeing as you’re all the way out here.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m heading there then,” Phil shrugged, “do you know if there’s anyone in… the town who could guide me?”

Emily shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think they will. They don’t like to go in there.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s _the Cursed Forest,”_ Dan said, “they’re all afraid of the nonexistent, harmless ‘curse.’”

Phil sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Then how am I going to get through the forest? Should I just go on my own?”

“Oh, I bet Dan would take you!” Emily chirped.

“I thought you said no one goes in there?” Phil asked, whirling around to look Dan in the eye. Dan dropped his gaze.

“The Townspeople don’t go in the forest, but I did. A lot actually.”

“So can you guide me?” Phil asked eagerly.

“What?! No way!”

Phil’s heart sunk. He thought maybe he and Dan had become something like friends? Guess not.

“Oh,” he said.

Dan looked at him and sighed, sitting down and running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry I just… I don’t like going into the forest anymore.”

“...Why not?”

“My dad,” he said after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, “he went in there one day and just didn’t come out. Spent most of my childhood exploring the forest trying to find him.”

“Oh,” Phil said again, softer this time.

Emily gave each of them a generous slice of bread and some preserved meat, paused to kiss Dan on the top of his head briefly before exiting the room.

“It’s okay, I’m sure I can find someone else,” Phil told him, tearing at the bread, “I mean the reward is steep enough to make practically anyone offer.”

“There’s a reward?”

Phil nodded.

“Huh, I guess there would be, wouldn’t there?”

Dan stuffed the meat in his mouth and grabbed the bread before standing up and ruffling Phil’s hair. “Come on,” he smiled, shaking off the heavy air from their previous conversation, “we’ve got work to do your highness.”

“You can’t ruffle my hair. I’m older than you.”

“Watch me,” Dan smirked, and did it again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Dan informed Phil the next day that he would take Phil throught the forest after all.

Phil looked around at the house - old, falling apart - and then at Dan - who had clearly been up for hours - and something unpleasant flashed in his chest.

The reward really was steep enough to make anyone offer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 They set out the next day - after a restless night on Phil’s part, thoughts about the Quest and Dan joining him for the money rather than just because they were… friends keeping him up. It sounded stupid when he thought about it like that, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter about it.

Emily had packed them both a substantial amount of food (substantial in context to the amount of food Dan and Emily had, as opposed to the grand banquets Phil was used to), and she had even given Phil a dusty old sword that made Dan gasp when he saw it.

“It was Tommy’s - my husband’s,” Emily explained, and Phil gasped too, “I thought it would be put to better use with you than in the corner.”

Phil bowed low and took the sword gratefully. When he lifted his head Emily was shifting her weight flusteredly and stuttering that “oh you don’t need to do that,” and “ah, you’re, um, you’re welcome.”

Dan hugged his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They exchanged whispered words and Dan nodded. Phil wondered what they were talking about. Probably the reward.

“We have to go there on foot, and it’s a while to walk so we better leave now,” Dan told him, smiling.

Phil smiled back and, with a final wave back to Emily, they set out along the dirt path. They complained about the heat, like they always did and Phil tripped over his feet about 20 times - much to Dan’s amusement.

They walked for what felt like hours, talking till their mouths were dry and playing a game that started with Phil pointing at a patch of grass on the side of the path and saying “Look, that’s the forest, can we stop now?”

Regular breaks were taken after that.

“Hey Dan?” Phil asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “What did your dad do? Like, who was he?”

“He was a knight,” Dan said simply.

That made Phil stop. “What?!” he exclaimed, “But… why are you all the way out here? Families of knights are given places in the kingdom and they’re compensated for stuff!”

“Yeah, well he was given some kind of task for something in the town, met mum and he kept seeing her and eventually he asked if he could marry her but they were both going through shit so they basically just fucked off all the way out here,” he explained. Somewhat.

“Romantic.”

Dan snorted. “Speaking of parents, it’s still weird to think about how _your_ parents are _literally the rulers of our country._ Like it’s just weird to think that _Prince Philip Lester_ is standing next to me in my clothes and is someone I just call ‘Phil.’”

Phil laughed.

“Shut up! It’s weird!”

“You’re weird.”

“Your mum’s weird- wait, no, shit. I didn’t mean that.”

The thought that his mum - the person that read him bedtime stories until he was fifteen years old - could intimidate Dan was hilarious.

Dan nudged him slightly. “Keep up the pace slowpoke, we’re almost there.”

“If it’s another patch of grass I’m gonna kill you.”

Dan giggled. “You started it.”

They argued all the way up the path, the accusations growing and growing to _‘I bet you stole away the princess, didn’t you Phil? All this fuss just to meet me!’_ The pair barely noticed that the Cursed Forest was dead ahead. It had seemed to far away before. The walk was actually really short - wasn’t it?

Phil looked up at the sky. He had heard of people telling time by looking at the placement of the sun but he had no clue how. They had set out early morning, and the sun had definitely moved, because it does that, and it was definitely hotter, because that’s also something the sun does, but he had no idea how much time had passed.

Dan said it would take a couple hours, and his legs hurt like he had walked for a couple of hours, but it hadn’t seemed that long? Maybe he wasn’t as over that head injury as he thought, or perhaps it was the company he kept. Who knows.

Phil looked up again, and gasped.

Standing in front of the forest was much more intimidating than he thought it would be. Huge tree trunks towered above him, deep brown and taller than he thought was _possible._ Reaching up and up and forever. Dark green grass morphed into weeds and ferns and he couldn’t see farther than a couple of meters through the thick fauna. Bright flowers dotted the plants, the colours more vibrant than any dye he had seen. It was so sudden and dense it was like they hit a wall.

He was entranced.

Dan let him have his moment, opting to look at Phil’s awed expression rather than the Cursed Forest. He was still conflicted about going in here. On one hand - he couldn’t let Phil go _alone._ He would die. And aside from his... _personal_ interest in whether Phil was alive or not, he would get the reward. His mum wouldn’t have to work as hard to make the markets. They could step back. Breathe.

On the other hand - his father just upped and _disappeared_ in this forest. Dan had spent a long time looking for him, and had found… nothing. At all. Partly he blamed his father, partly he blamed himself, and partly he blamed the forest. For what, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t help but be angry at the mess of trees and vines.

Which was stupid. The Cursed Forest wasn’t exactly something you could get angry at for a response. You can’t really get angry at _any_ forest, for that matter.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his gaze focused back onto Phil. He hadn’t realised he had drifted off.

“You okay?” Phil asked, “You don’t have to go in you know.”

Dan, despite the mix of emotions swirling uncomfortably in his stomach, smiled. “And leave you? Nah, you’d die in an instant without me saving you from tripping to your death,” he said, “but… thanks.”

Phil smiled back. “After you then, my soon-to-be-saviour.”

Despite feeling more enclosed than he ever had before, the air was so much… _cleaner._ Splintered light fell down on them and as Phil looked around at it all he couldn’t imagine people _ever_ being scared by this place.

Rough hands on his shoulders, pulling him off balance. Phil stumbled back into Dan’s chest.

“Wha…”

“Careful,” Dan warned, “look where you were about to step.”

Phil looked. About a meter away from him was a black puddle, leaves and twigs sticking to the surface, murky gunk seeping into the surrounding greenery.

“It’s the _Cursed Forest,_ Phil. They call it that for a reason.”

The awe gradually slipped away and, slowly, carefully, Phil looked around at the forest again. He saw all the beauty and colours and life that he did before, but he also saw the dark shadows behind the trees, the gloom in the air, the sunlight that looked like just the absence of darkness.

Awe rose up in his throat again, but it was backed with cautiousness and fear and a hundred other emotions that made him glad he had someone who knew his way around.

It made him feel even better that that person was Dan. He wasn’t particularly sturdy, or strong, or fast but in situations like these, Phil thought, it was far better to have someone you actually liked. A friend.

“My saviour,” Phil smiled as he regained his footing.

Dan let out a laugh and ruffled Phil’s hair.

“I’m sure I can have you arrested for doing that or something,” Phil grumbled, batting his hands away.

“If I’m in a cage, who will save you from tripping to your death?”

“If you’re in a cage you’ll be less annoying.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Just before night fell, Dan lead them to a clearing. It took them about twenty minutes to light a fire - neither of them really knew how to do it, or what to use… it was a mess, but eventually a small flame crackled to life in the tiny pile of sticks and bark. After they were sure it wouldn’t go out, Dan took out a single threadbare blanket.

“Ok, would you rather be cold but not sleep on grass,” he started, holding out the cloth, “or sleep on grass but not be _as_ cold.”

“I think I’m okay with grass. I hope you’re not a blanket stealer though,” Phil laughed as he passed Dan his half of bread. They were going to have to find things in the forest to eat from now on, because although his mum had given them all she could, it still wasn’t much.

Dan remembered what was poisonous and what wasn't.

Probably.

He hoped.

The fire kept burning as they found the patch of grass that looked the most comfortable and lied down. The feeling of someone so close was unfamiliar to Dan, but not unwelcome. It wasn’t quiet, exactly - it was never quiet in a place like this, there was always something rustling or chirping or croaking, but neither of them said anything and neither of them were listening to the sounds, so it was quiet, in a way, between them.

“So do you have any idea where we’re meant to go?” he asked, breaking the pseudo-silence.

Phil sighed and looked up at the canopy. “I have no idea about any of this. One day I was told I had to go find Arabella, and the next I’m in a forest that she may or may not be in, lying down next to someone I met two weeks ago and am now trusting with my life.”

Dan paused. “You’re just gonna go around to all the forests until you find her?”

“Yeah probably,” Phil shrugged, “that’s what I’m supposed to do. Find her, save her, marry her.”

 _“Marry_ her?”

“That’s how it goes. True love and all that stuff.”

Dan turned his head to look at Phil. “That’s… intense.”

Phil made an agreeable sort of noise and they lapsed back into silence.

It was like Dan’s impression of Phil had been completely changed in those few minutes. At first, he seemed like a porcelain kind of character who fainted in the afternoon and was cradled until the age of 16. Now, Dan was amazed his porcelain skin didn’t crack under the pressure of having his life turned upside-down in the span of a week.

Dan’s own life had taken a sharp turn as well - he was back. Here, in the Cursed Forest, lying under a blanket with the heir to the throne, thinking about _porcelain._

“What?” Phil’s voice broke his thoughts.

“Porcelain.”

A shock of laughter fell past Phil’s lips. “What about porcelain?”

“You look like porcelain,” Dan smiled, an ~~almost flirting~~ teasing lilt to his tone.

“You look like a sack of potatoes.”

“Your _mum_ looks like- oh god I need to stop doing that,” Dan laughed, turning back to the canopy and covering his eyes with his forearm.

“When I go back I’ll be sure to tell mum about all the _wonderful people_ I met - ‘oh yeah, my friend Dan said that you’re weird and you look like a sack of potatoes,’” Phil told him.

“Never mind you putting me in a cage, I’ll be _beheaded_ for that.”

“You deserve it for saying the queen looks like a sack of potatoes,” Phil moved to look at him.

Dan turned on his side. “Well maybe you deserve to get lost in the forest for saying _I_ look like a sack of potatoes.”

“Hey!” Phil exclaimed, “you called me _porcelain._ Fair’s fair!”

“I’m getting up, I’m leaving you here forever, you’ll get eaten by a monster or something… oh no…. Whatever shall you do….” Dan deadpanned.

“If I got eaten I wouldn’t have to do the Quest.”

“If you got eaten you wouldn’t be able to see my beautiful face again. Think about that.”

“You make a compelling argument.”

Dan wasn’t sure when exactly they fell asleep, but they must have at some point because he was waking up.

It took him a moment to get his bearings; to stare up at the blinding green above him, to feel the prickly grass beneath him and the presence by him and remember what happened. Dan turned onto his side.

He tried not to laugh. Phil was _not_ a pretty sleeper - his eye was crinkled from a hand under his cheek and his hair was sticking in all directions. What a dork.

Unconsciously, Dan reached out a hand to smooth down Phil’s hair, then, as he realised what he was doing, sharply pulled back. He turned around, glaring at a patch of grass and he was definitely _in no way_ blushing. Fuck.

A warm hand on his back. _Shit, he’s awake,_ Dan thought.

The hand slid over his shoulder. “Daaaaaan, stop takin’ the blanket,” he drawled sleepily.

Ok, so, _maybe_ Dan was blushing. It wasn’t a big deal. He could ignore it. Phil was going to get married-

A cold certainty slipped down into his stomach. Phil was going to get married. End of story.

He let go of the blanket and turned around. “Come on Phil,” he said, looking at the ashes of their campfire, “we’ve got to get moving.”

Phil groaned. “You can’t even _see_ the sun! How do you know what time it is?”

“We woke up, which means it’s late because without mum to drag us out of bed we get up at around midday,” Dan laughed, pushing the blanket onto Phil’s face.

_Prince Philip was risking his life to save Princess Arabella, who he’s probably in love with, and who he’s going to marry. True Love and all that stuff. You’re only here because you know the forest, give it up._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Previously, Phil hadn’t thought much of - or _about -_ romance, but since being thrown into the Quest, he had barely had time to think of anything else. It was always _what’s going to happen when I find the princess? What if I don’t find her? Dan’s still holding my hand- crap. Don’t think about that._

In the end it always came back to Dan. Dan smiling, or laughing, or teasing, or holding his hand because _it’s not safe and you’re gonna get lost._ Which was fine. Phil would gladly be the clumsy one if it meant holding his hand-

No, Phil would _not_ because Prince Philip can’t think like that. Prince Philip has to marry the princess and _not_ like the guide because said guide is only here for the reward.

“Phil, look,” Dan said, jerking him close and out of his thoughts.

He shifted his gaze to where Dan was pointing. For seemingly no reason whatsoever, in the middle of the forest, was a white tree. Pale bark, paler leaves, almost blinding.

“It’s you.”

A laugh slipped between Phil’s lips. “You’re the ants,” he said after a moment. They were still at the tree, still holding hands for… whatever reason. Did it matter? Phil didn’t think it mattered.

“Is that because I’m _all over you?”_

Another laugh. Bumped shoulders. “We’re never going to find her if you keep teasing me like this.”

Dan paused. “Well maybe if you’d stop making it so easy,” he was laughing, but there was something missing.

Dan let go of Phil’s hand, and he felt like he had done something wrong. _What_ he did wrong, however, was the question.

“You okay?” Phil asked.

“Yeah? Why do you ask?” Dan threw a confused look over his shoulder.

 _Because you let go of my hand_ sounded… well, he knew how it sounded, so Phil settled for a noncommittal hum and shrugged his shoulders. It didn’t matter.

It really didn’t. This… crush, or whatever, of his - this hand-holding, maybe-flirting thing could easily be brushed aside.

Dan was his _friend._

He’s going to marry a _princess._

_Brush it aside._

“Phil! Fff- _move!”_

A hand hooked around his elbow. Another stark white tree not two centimeters from his face. A yelp of surprise building up in his throat before-

Before Dan pulled him close and out of the way-

Before _Dan_ was the one not two centimeters from his face-

Before the noise died in his throat and all he could do is stare.

Dan was staring too.

_You can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t_

_(but I could?)_

_But the princess and your parents and it’s true love and you’re gonna fall in love with her as soon as you see her and you’re gonna get married and the kingdom and your parents-_

_(but I could?)_

_(I could.)_

“The, um, the trees,” Dan said, softly, not moving his hand or his eyes.

“What?”

“The trees - they mean we’re getting closer. To the cave.”

Phil’s heart dropped to his navel. “Right. The cave.”

Neither of them moved.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked.

He lowered his gaze. “Yes.”

The grip on his elbow tightened briefly. Phil looked back up. The pseudo-silence was back.

“...No,” he finally admitted, and then words were falling out of his mouth faster than he could control them, “I mean I don’t even _know_ Princess Arabella - I mean I met her once when she was a baby, technically - but everyone was expecting me to go all Prince Charming and stuff even though I have been outside of the castle a whole _one time_ in my _life_.”

“You’ve never met her?!”

Phil shook his head.

“This entire time I thought you were madly in love with this girl,” Dan said, “why do you keep saying it’s true love if you’ve never met her?”

“Because it’s supposed to be. I’m the Prince and she’s the Princess.”

Dan stepped back. “Right.”

The hand on his elbow trailed down to hold his hand tentatively.  They walked through the thick trees, the white bark becoming more and more common until that was all they could see. The trees were everywhere - it was a wonder they didn’t get lost.

Were they lost?

Maybe.

Did it matter?

...Maybe.

“Phil,” Dan said quietly, “I just… I-”

He was cut off by a earth-shaking tremor that ran under their feet. A horrible noise sounded from Phil’s left, grating against his ears like a whetstone to a blade.  The trees shook, white leaves falling to the ground as if imitating snow.

Dan squeezed his hand and Phil glanced at him.

“Come on,” Dan urged, breaking into a jog, “we gotta get there before the trees crush us.”

Phil let himself be pulled. “You were expecting this?! Do earthquakes happen a lot around here?!”

“It’s not an earthquake! It’s an animal!”

Phil’s blood ran cold. _What kind of animal…_

They stumbled into another clearing- well, it was less like a clearing and more like the trees just… stopped. All in a line. Suddenly there was just the forest floor, spreading as far as he could see in both directions.

He looked at Dan, breathing hard, and followed his gaze to… a cave. Just beyond that cave the trees - brown bark, green leaves, normal - started again, in a straight line, as if the gap didn’t exist. There was just the cave, in the middle of everything, leading down into the ground.

Something in his chest tightened, and they did nothing. They didn’t enter, they didn’t move, they just stood there, rigidly, staring at the thing Phil was supposed to be excited, or relieved about.

He wasn’t either of those things.

He didn’t know _what_ he felt but it didn’t feel good.

Then the trees splintered behind them, and all hell broke loose.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Dan fell to the ground face-first. Of course he did.

Groaning, he pushed himself up and looked towards - what used to be - the forest line.

He stopped breathing.

Only a couple of meters away from them was a hulking, tar-black… _thing._ A four-legged, spider-eyed, five-feet-tall thing with huge teeth protruding from its mouth. It paused, breathing audibly before charging straight at them.

Phil yelped and fumbled for his sword. “Go! you have to run!”

“What?!” No way. He wasn’t going to leave Phil to face the creature by _himself_ that was _suicide_.

It was closing in. Closer, closer.

“Dan _please!”_ Phil yelled. His grip on the sword trembled along with his voice, “this is _my_ Quest, _I’m_ the one with the weapon- you’ll just get yourself killed!”

“No! I can’t! I-”

Oh. Phil was kissing him. They were two feet away from the cave with his true love in it, a monster was charging at them and _now_ he decides to kiss him.

Before he could do- well, anything really, Phil pushed him away.

“You need to go. Now.”

Dan went. He ran away from Phil and the monster and the cave and back into the forest. The forest that had killed his father was now going to kill his… was going to kill Phil as well.

He slumped against a tree. He could still hear the monster’s spine-sawing roar, but he couldn’t hear Phil. Maybe he was dead already.

Dan’s heart was throbbing, he could feel it all over his body, like it was bleeding out of his chest and _what if Phil was dead and you just ran away-_

No.

No, he had the sword, and Dan… he couldn’t just sit there. But he couldn’t help.

He looked up, banging the back of his head against the smooth, pale wood. He couldn’t help- _yes he could._

Dan stood up. Just above his head was a thick branch barely hanging on to the rest of the tree, damaged from the monster’s rampage.

He could help.

He pulled at the branch until it came free and ran as fast as he could towards the creature, following the debris. He could help this time, he wouldn’t just sit and wait, wondering how exactly he died or if he’d ever see him again or how much of him was left.

He slowed to a halt as the back of the monster came into view. Phil was yelling and swinging his sword, years of alleged training thrown out the window in a panic.

Dan’s fingers buzzed and he gulped nervously. Without thinking too hard, he raised the branch above his head and _ran_ at the creature - bringing his makeshift club down where he hoped its head was.

The monster’s front legs buckled and it whined like furious winds forced through a keyhole, making them both wince at the sound. Phil held his sword aloft and drove it into the monster’s head - probably, I mean, that’s where a head’s _supposed_ to be, right?

Phil collapsed to the ground, hands still around the hilt of the sword and Dan knelt next to him.

“You were meant to run away,” Phil said, chest heaving.

“I did,” Dan replied, “I ran away, and then I came back.”

“Why? You could have _died_ Dan!”

He reached forward and took one of Phil’s hands off the sword. “You could have died as well.”

Phil’s other hand came up to cup Dan’s jaw, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Your supposed true love is in that cave right there,” Dan reminded him - not bitterly, but not softly either.

Phil shrugged. _“Supposed -_ my true love could also be sitting right in front of me and I’d never know the difference.”

Dan’s heart was stuck in his throat as he let go of Phil’s hand in favour of looping his arms around his neck and pulling them together. Dan knew, obviously, that only witches and wizards had magic but if he had it he’d imagine it’d feel something like _this._

Like his fingers tingling as they carded through Phil’s hair.

Like the warmth in his chest as trembling hands moved slowly across his back.

Like the taste of Phil against his lips, in his thoughts, under his fingertips.

He pulled back, blinking slowly.

“Let’s go,” said Phil, standing up and offering him a hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Phil was nervous entering the cave. Or maybe _apprehensive_ was a better word. Heartbeat roaring in his ears, one hand clasped in Dan’s as they started descending the stairs.

He didn’t want to fall in love with the princess - the simple truth of it all carved a hole in his chest. He didn’t want to disappoint his parents, or the kingdom, but he didn’t want to lose Dan. He’d never even met the princess, and Phil couldn’t even begin the grasp the idea of falling for someone he didn’t know - how was he meant to _love_ somebody when they had never talked, never laughed together, never swapped secrets in the dead of night, never _connected_ on any level?

The staircase seemed to spiral down forever, which wasn’t helping his thoughts. All Phil could hear was their footsteps - echoing, clicking sounds like they were walking on marble rather than dirt. Princess Arabella was barely an acquaintance - she was a concept, a title, whereas Dan was _here,_ with him, guiding him through the forest and holding his hand and saving him from monsters.

He wouldn’t fall in love with the princess, Phil decided, _and no amount of magic can change that._

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Dan pulling him away from something bright green and right in front of his face.

“One would think you’d notice the first thing that wasn’t dirt in about twenty minutes,” Dan said, “but you continue to amaze me.”

Phil looked at him. He was wearing that same expression when he talked about his father - the _I’m so not bothered by this I can make jokes about it_ expression.

“I’m not going to fall in love with her.”

Dan’s expression crumpled. “It’s magic, Phil, you don’t know _what_ you’re gonna do.”

“Yes I do,” Phil said firmly, “I can’t fall in love with someone I don’t even know, and no amount of magic can change that.”

“...Ok.”

Phil pushed open the door, and the first thing he saw was a crib. Sunlight streaming in from nowhere was bathing the tiny wooden bed in light and Phil’s mind was thrown back to that first day he saw it. The day it all began.

It was exactly the same - small sapphires and emeralds embedded into rich, dark wood, pink silk draped around.

It was Princess Arabella, not a day older than she was _seventeen years ago._

Phil rushed up to the crib and picked her up. She babbled incoherently, almost laughing, as tiny, tiny hands reached up for him-

And he fell in love.

She was the little sister he never had, the extra presence he’d missed all his childhood in the empty halls, at the long parties, she was-

Perfect.

“I’m so confused,” Dan drawled, “we came here for your wife, and instead we get a baby?”

Phil turned around. “Dan,” he breathed out slowly, lips twitching almost involuntarily into a smile, “meet Princess Arabella.”

Dan’s jaw slackened. He shifted his gaze from Phil, to the princess, and back to Phil again.

“Why’s magic gotta be so _weird?”_

“Because it was the only way to be free.”

The new voice made them both jump. Dan whirled around and backed up so his back was against the crib as well.

“Who the hell are you?” Dan exclaimed.

The woman smiled, but it’s wasn’t out of amusement. The movement cracked and tore at her young face, her pitch-black robes swirled.

“You’re the witch,” Phil answered, and the witch nodded resignedly.

She sat down on a chair that definitely wasn’t there before and Dan reached around to grab Phil’s sword from its sheath. Phil shielded the child as Dan held the blade in front of him, pointing right at the witch.

“My name is Ida,” she said, “Ida Crawford, please let me explain.”

Dan glanced at Phil, who nodded slightly.

They both turned back to the witch.

“I was born a long, long time ago in a village that doesn’t even exist any more,” she said, and that sentence alone seemed to age her, “it doesn’t exist because it was burned to the ground by palace guards.”

Phil tensed at her words. They had a good reason for burning the town, surely… and there would have been an evacuation. Maybe the town was plagued.

“The town was very poor and we had trouble paying out taxes you see, so the ruler at the time - I forget his name, killed him eventually anyway - decided to make an example of us… my mum had already been taken, as had my sister and my brother. It was just me and my dad… until,” she broke off, eyes swimming and age lines beginning to appear on her face, “anyway, I got out - one of the _lucky ones -_ and I wanted revenge-”

“Why are you telling us this?” Phil asked, still holding Princess Arabella tightly to his chest.

“Because I need you to understand. Please.”

When neither he or Dan said anything, she continued.

“I wanted… revenge, so I went to the old wizard Atlas on the hill. Told him I wanted power. Enough to bring a kingdom to his knees. He said the only power strong enough for that was his own, and that he would give it to me if I was willing to bear its curse. I was young and angry and I was willing to do anything, so I accepted.”

She took a deep, rasping breath through cracked lips.

“You see magic is fickle. And evil. Oh, it’s wonderful for a while, so, _so_ wonderful but then it shows it’s true colours and you become its slave. I delivered my revenge against the King - stole his children, his wife, and just when he got them back I killed them.”

Dan took one hand off the sword, hooking it around Phil’s elbow. She was dangerous, they knew that from the very beginning, but if they moved Phil was certain she would kill them. So they did nothing. They listened.

“That was over two hundred years ago now. Since then, every twenty years or so I’m forced by this magic to carry out wicked deeds against the royal family governing the kingdom where my village once stood. I was kept alive, young - just as I was back then, but soon enough my hatred gave way to despair. These people did nothing to deserve my wrath.”

“But you’re getting old now,” Phil said, “look, you’re ageing.”

And she was. Pale, soft skin was now weather-worn and leathery, her posture sagged as if gravity was trying to pull her down. Ida Crawford cracked that same horrible smile. “I am, because the conditions haven’t been met, thanks to you two.”

Phil’s blood ran cold.

“What does that mean?” exclaimed Dan, brandishing his sword with both hands now.

“I was forced to become the evil necessary for true love and a happy ending - something bad happens to the princess, or the girl with the heart of gold, or the girl kind enough to have animals for friends, or whatever - prince saves her from the monster, or her family, or from a piece of fruit, they get married and it’s a happily ever after until a couple of generations down the track when it all happens again.”

“But why are you thanking us? What’s happening?” Phil demanded.

“You fell in love with _each other-_ yes the prince saved the princess but she’s only a baby and the prince fell in love with the farm boy. The cycle is broken. Thank you.”

The witch crumbled to dust, and the dust started swirling around without any wind. Shifting his hold on Princess Arabella, he reached down and took ahold of Dan’s hand, bringing him close and closing his eyes. The dust was all around them, he couldn’t see a thing, the baby in his arms started crying and Dan was trembling while Phil was too scared to think-

 _“Thank you,”_ he heard the witch whisper. Or maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was even his imagination.

“Philip!”

Phil eyes snapped open. He was in a courtyard. _His_ courtyard. Well, it was his mother's but it was the only place outside he could go without causing a fuss.

He was _home_.

Dan was looking around in awe, craning his neck and twisting his head, trying to drink in all the details of the Queen’s Courtyard.

“Philp!”

He turned towards the noise to find his mother, Her Majesty the Queen, running at full speed towards them, skirts flying and hair coming undone.

He tapped Dan on the shoulder and carefully handed the sleeping - _how_ she was sleeping now he had _no_ idea - princess over to him before stepping forward to meet his mother’s hug.

“Oh my gosh I’ve been _so worried!_ Where have you been I haven’t heard from you in over a _month!_ Let me look at you,” she drew back and placed her hands on his face, “oh Philip you’re _filthy -_ did you sleep in a pigsty?”

Dan let out a laugh behind them and a smile tugged at Phil’s lips.

“I’m terribly sorry for my lack of manners - who might you be?” his mother asked.

The easy expression fell off Dan’s face. He looked flabbergasted.

“Mum,” Phil said, “this is Dan.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 King Joseph and Queen Elizabeth cried when they saw their daughter. They bundled her up and made faces and coddled her in a manner _quite_ unbecoming of the rulers of a country but seeing as it was just Phil, his parents, Dan and Emily present none of them bothered with _proper_ behaviour.

There was a long, boring meeting about what to do for an heir seeing as Princess Arabella was… not suitable for marriage. There was talk about arranging something with a duke’s daughter or something but Prince Philp himself settled the matter with a long, boring ceremony announcing Princess Arabella as his heir, and a different sort of ceremony where the Prince of the country married a _farm boy._

It was called a scandal until it became forbidden to do so, and the Prince and the farm boy lived

Happily

Ever

After.

 

* * *

 

[fanart: x](http://degnam.tumblr.com/post/152676102253/do-yourself-a-favor-and-read-thornswords-pbb-fic)

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats if you sat through that tbh. All my writing ends up being cheesy but im allowed to do that here bc itS A FAIRYTALE. 
> 
> Please please tell me what you thought and I hope you have a good day!


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